


Lacuna

by gryffindormischief



Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [74]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Life, fightfortherightsofhouseelves's Hinny Christmas Fest 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Harry Potter loves a good mystery and Ginny Potter is his favorite.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [74]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/441613
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Lacuna

**Author's Note:**

> For fightfortherightsofhouseelves's hinny Christmas fest on Tumblr!

When Harry kicks the door shut with his foot and sees a golden fire burning in the grate, he temporarily has the strange urge to bellow something along the lines of ‘honey I’m home.’ Before he can work out exactly whether Ginny would find it funny or hate being called honey or hate the allusion to mid-century gender norms, he trips over his wife’s discarded boots and nearly goes sprawling. Which would be particularly heartbreaking considering the large quantities of flour and eggs currently wrapped in his arms.

Luckily, he does keep his footing enough that only the crisps precariously perched on top of the left-hand bag end up on the floor. 

It all feels sort of funny and Harry’s in an odd ‘let me tell you my mildly humorous and vaguely holiday themed anecdote’ phase at the moment so the beginning of his tale is already on his tongue when he rounds the corner and finds Ginny looking…

The only word is suspicious.

Which is odd because Ginny has a pretty amazing poker face for things. Including but not limited to poker, excuse making related to boring cocktail parties (i.e. all of them), and even when lying and telling Molly they’ve eaten something other than takeaway for dinner.

So Harry, as one who is generally curious and has a track record as one who cannot seem to resist a mystery, immediately resolves to get to the bottom of things.

A project which he begins immediately and is almost as quickly thwarted in when Ginny looks at him like the proverbial deer in the headlights if said deer could turn off said lights. With the darkness, silence falls as well, except for the patter of a building icy rainstorm. 

Harry shuffles closer to the counter and slips the grocery bags onto the top. “Can we turn the light on?”

“...No.”

He doesn’t try to hide his grin, not when the moonlight is filtered through gloomy grey clouds overhead and Ginny most definitely can’t see him.

“And wipe that smirk off your face,” Ginny, who apparently possesses bat-like vision, adds. “I’m not a bat by the way.”

Maybe he’s become predictable. Or Ginny’s a mind reader. Either way, his eyesight isn’t being helped by the pitch darkness. Maybe pity will help his case.

“Ginny I can’t see. My poor eyes.” 

She tsks. “Oh Harry, pitiful is not a cute look on you.”

“How can you even know what it looks like, Gin,” Harry scoffs before making an abrupt dive for the light switch. One that Ginny easily thwarts and ends up with him pinned to the wall. 

Even in the darkness, Harry can see her bright grin. “This reminds me of the treacle tart incident.”

“That time you stole my treacle tart?” Harry clarifies, unsuccessfully attempting to free his wrists.

“I remember it as the time you were stingy and yet I selflessly gave you a very enjoyable evening,” Ginny corrects, gently guiding him from the laundry door which he can just see - nothing through.

“Mutual enjoyment was had - that was the first time I tried that thing with my tongue…”

For a moment, the tension that has riddled Ginny’s body since he arrived home melts and she softens into his chest. She’s pressed along him practically from head to toe, and when he tilts his head forward, their lips are so close it feels like he just may explode from sheer want. “Gin-”

He hears her breath catch, can imagine the way her pupils dilate when they’re this close, feels the tremble in her fingers as she releases his wrists.

Slowly, he runs one open palm up her side and when his fingers find her jaw, she leans into it.

Which is the perfect time to do one of two things. And an outsider may judge Harry for the one he picks, but nobody knows what it’s like being married to Ginny Potter. What the competition feels like in everything they do. How he feels sometimes like her gravity is all that keeps him tied to the earth, and that’s true in the best way.

Also he finds her completely and utterly attractive and to get a little romantic he’ll even say beguiling. He could stare at her for hours, kiss her until his lips swelled, lie in bed with her until they slowly drive each other mad - all things they have done at one time or another he might add.

But now, in this moment, as his eyes fixate on the streak of some black oily substance on her cheek, Harry has only one thought.

With a few quick twists, he has her pinned to the wall, one arm held behind her back and the entire weight of his body pressing into her, her arse settling perfectly against him. God he’s such a wanker.

“Harry you are such a wanker.”

At least they’re still on the same page.

“Sorry but you know how I am with a mystery.”

“I could write seven books on you from ages eleven to seventeen and still not quite capture it,” Ginny drawls, slightly less effective in her sarcasm as her face is half smushed to the wall.

He’d try for a retort but he can half see in the room and he just has to know - he releases her and two quick strides have him in the doorway before she can enact her ineffective full body cling method of stopping him in his tracks.

However, Harry does do that all by himself once he pushes the door open.

"See, this is why we can't have nice things."

Ginny sighs and tips sideways, leaning against the door jam, “I'm gonna fix it.”

She’s really making it difficult not to laugh. Honestly, if he wasn’t so sure of her swift and terrible retribution, he probably would. His attachment to their conjugal playtime is what makes him able to let out a laugh free - if slightly dubious sounding - “Uh huh.”

“Oi! Don’t sound so - whatever. I can do whatever I set my mind to.”

Harry bends over and picks up a large and slightly rusted spring that must have some use. He squats to survey the damage, rather like when he gets the lay of the land at a new crime scene. This was a massacre. “Including completely dismantling our dryer.”

"It ate my favorite pair of socks again!"

The investigation pauses and Harry glances up at her. “You mean the ones with the hippogriffs? And the jingle bells?”

Ginny scoffs again and rolls her eyes, “Yeah. What other favorite socks do I have?”

Harry lifts a long sheet of white painted metal and stares at it as if it will suddenly reveal its purpose. “You have seasonal favorites.”

“Yes,” Ginny sys slowly, like he’s falling very behind on the uptake, “but those are my overall favorite.”

“Really.”

“Yes it combines holiday cheer, usefulness, and whimsy - how do you not know?”

Shaking his head, Harry rises from his squat and folds his arms. “You're right...a person who knew you would have found the jingling hippogriffs in the dryer while folding your wash and secretly brought them to your mum to ask her to repair the holes.”

Almost immediately, Ginny’s smug expression falls and she looks like her confidence in her course of action over the afternoon has ever so slightly dipped. “So the dryer - “

“ - did not eat your socks,” Harry finishes.

“Maybe Dad will fix it?” Ginny says finally, though her hesitance is not misplaced. Arthur can be handy with muggle appliances, and he can also end up making your food processor into a flying death wheel.

Ginny lets out a long sigh. “That's our Christmas gift this year.”

“From him or to him?” Harry laughs, “Why don’t you clean up and I’ll get dinner started.”

Ginny tiptoes through the pieces of destroyed appliance and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Back in a few.”


End file.
